


hold on hope (it’s the last thing that’s holding me)

by marsoupeel



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: A weird meta regarding the IT Crowd, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Blatant Overuse of Italics, Getting Together, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sharing a sofa, this literally happened bc shane liked a tweet ages ago lmfao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-06-19 13:22:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15510801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marsoupeel/pseuds/marsoupeel
Summary: in which shane has an autistic meltdown and is head over heels in love and ryan’s trying his best





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay so after I watched 2 episodes of buzzfeed unsolved and one post mortem, I was convinced Shane was a massive IT Crowd and Mighty Boosh fan, so I tweeted at him asking which and he just liked it (so I concluded both lmao), and then this fic was born 3 months and 5 rewatches of bfu later with me projecting my autism - classic, hope you enjoy!!
> 
> title from hold on hope by guided by voices

Sometimes, Shane struggles.

It’s a vague term for it, but he gets uncomfortable and can’t cope in certain situations. There’s certain noises that pierce his skull down the middle, pushing him into a space of anxiety and hand tremors, usually until the noise has stopped. Usually, that noise is anything inconstant, like a machine that stops and starts. If something has to make a noise, can it not do it in a rhythmically pleasing way? It hurts.

So he struggles with different sounds, but there’s issues with different textures as well. He really struggles with trying new food, because another banana-gate might occur. It’s limiting to Shane’s health at times, when he gets stuck in a rut of eating only certain foods of certain colours.

There’s nothing more unsettling than something green on your plate in and amongst a single-coloured palette, and the etiquette that comes with eating stresses him out too.

There’s a lot of things to do with etiquette that Shane struggles with - he came across as ‘blunt’ or ‘rude’ as a kid, frequently nudged by his brother after speaking in a certain way, and he learnt to keep his mouth shut.

Learnt to watch.

Learnt to listen.

Learnt to _remember_.

When he was 7, he had shitloads of notebooks, piled up on top of each other, filled to the brim with laborious scrawls, transcripts of conversations and understanding what people meant when they said certain things.

Being friends with girls as a kid always helped with that, little girls and their condescending attitudes. Drawings and subtle showing off of new toys, and comments of ‘yours is so much better than mine’ when they don’t actually mean it.

Shane learnt, and poured over those scribblings for years, memorised them by rote, as he did a lot of things back then, when he had the time.

He still knows the first 36 elements of the periodic table off by heart, and the order English Prime Ministers during the Victorian Era (transferring to middle school was a hard time), but as soon as he hit teenage years, he threw those hours of understanding and self-teaching away, having gathered all the information in his head.

Still, that sticks with him. Not many people can tell that he’s different when they first speak to him, and he likes it like that. Sometimes it’s nice to be a chameleon, and not be asked any anxiety-inducing questions, because you already know what to do. You know how to act, how to behave, and how to respond. It makes things a lot easier.

There’s still shitty comments that come up alongside when people do find out, of course, things like ‘oh, you don’t _really_ have that’, or anything that reads ‘you’ve broken my expectations of a certain diagnosis’, and it’s shit, even if some of them do mean well.

But that’s not the point. He’s in his thirties and doing okay. The world has become a hell of a lot more accepting and he’s _happy_ , but even so, there’s a lot of stuff Shane still struggles with.

This particular time, it’s his own emotions.

See, Shane’s never been interested in someone _romantically_. He’s been through the process of dates, having learnt the etiquette, understands the dialogue and the ~~satanic~~ rituals of romance. He’s done it all, but never with proper feeling.

He has this revelation when he’s sat by himself on his sofa, binge watching The IT Crowd.

Again.

Okay so he rewatches it twice yearly, at least. But it’s a really good show, and it shows people with Shane’s disorder in a different light to usual.

Moss is more conventional in his portrayal, his lack of social understanding, his collection of wires, him being ‘in his happy place’ when in a crisis, everything about him screams stereotype.

Roy, alternatively, is everything TV usually forgets. He’s socially conscious, anxious and angry beyond belief and a compulsive eater.

Shane’s still angry about the ‘emotionally artistic’ joke though, and dies a little inside every time he hears it. But even so, despite that, The IT Crowd has introduced him to some great music, some great humour (he started watching The Mighty Boosh after the first time of the IT Crowd, and man is he soft for Howard), and some understanding and mainstream portrayal, which makes jokes related to his disorder without (for the most part) using it as the comedy value itself.

Anyway, rambling aside, it’s his overthinking of Moss and Roy that has him struggling again.

He always knew that Moss and Roy were (in his version), head over heels in love with each other. They both refer to it as a marriage at different points, and then there’s the classic wall snog in series 3.

What he didn’t realise was that he saw himself and Ryan in the same way. Ryan’s obsession with ghosts and murders and shit, and his upbeat ‘stagehand’ persona. He doesn’t seem to give much of a shit what other people think of him either, unless prompted to.

He is _wonderful_ , but Shane knew that anyway.

It’s just that none of his handy self made rulebooks know how to cover the thumping in his chest at his revelation, the speeding up of his breath and the fucking Olympic floorwork gymnastics his stomach seems to be pulling.

Through that panic, he manages to note that every time he thinks about Ryan, that same feeling appears. _Oh_ _God_ , Shane thinks, _he’s_ _fucked_.

What’s even more alarming is that Ryan’s coming over tonight, so they can talk through ideas and watch trashy TV and criticise it. That would’ve been fine, if Shane hadn’t chosen to have his massive fucking _holyshitiminlovewithmybestfriend_ moment less than an hour before he’s due to arrive.

How do you pretend not to be in love with someone? ‘Hello, Ryan, we’re here again as normal and I’m 100% not in love with you!’ ‘Hey, man, do you want to stay over? Reckon you’ve had a few too many and I really want to see you waking up in the morning and wandering around my house barefoot, telling me to fuck off (affectionately) when I stare for a bit too long? That alright?’

He’s well and truly fucked, and he hates it, and he feels his hands begin to flap.

Shit.

Not now.

Not now, not now, _not_ _now_.

Hesitantly, Shane curls himself up into a ball on the floor and rocks back and forth. _You’re_ _a_ _fucking_ _idiot_ , he thinks, _if_ _you’re_ _like_ _this_ _he_ _won’t_ _fucking_ _want_ _you_ _anyway_. Not that he does, that’s just a hypothetical.

_Grow_ _up_.

_You_ _should_ _be_ _over_ _this_.

That’s the bit of his subconscious that stings. He knows he can’t help it, but that doesn’t make it any easier, when he wants to get out of it and he can’t. He’s trapped, clawing at the entirely smooth walls of his mind, trying to find a way out.

He’s lost all sense of time. It could be hours, Ryan could’ve been knocking for ages, and he’ll be pissed at him in the morning. In the afternoon, whenever Shane can get his fucking stupid head out of this dumb funk.

Losing control like this is humiliating. He can tell there’s noises coming out of his mouth, ‘e’ vowel noises that’ll be at different pitches and frequencies and he wants himself to shut up. It hurts, and it’s painful, and it’s _embarrassing_.

Through all of that, he feels gentle touches down his arms, fingertips playing a piano, up and down his arms, and it’s nice. It’s grounding. It’s something that’s not his own head, and he leans into it, when he rocks forward into them.

After a couple of minutes, a whispered voice floats through his head.

“Uh huh, yeah he seems to be more settled now, there’s less noises. We’re still rocking though, and the hands are still shaking. Yeah, will do. Thank you so much, by the way.”

Ryan.

Part of him wants to descend back into the madness again, but he knows he’ll feel even more worthless, and he doesn’t want to make Ryan and whoever he’s talking to feel any worse.

Gradually, he manages to get ahold of his vocal cords and stop making his pained noises.

“Hey Shane, just to let you know I’m going to put your mom on speaker. I’m still here, but there’s going to be another voice, okay?”

_Thanks_ , _Ryan_. Shane thinks, mentally rolling his eyes. _I_ _know_ _what_ _having_ _a_ _phone_ _conversation_ _entails_ , _but_ _I’ll_ _let_ _it_ _pass_. As if he’s got any choice but to, as his shaking hands remind him.

“Hey honey.”

“Hi mom,” he manages to croak out from between his hands and legs, and he winces at the sound of his voice. Ryan begins tracing his fingers up and down his arms, and Shane feels himself begin to relax.

“You didn’t do anything drastic, did you?” She sounds jovial, which makes him feel a hell of a lot better. He’d only panic if she showed how worried she really was.

“Nah, not this time.” His voice is easier, and he drops his legs down so that they’re crossed, and gradually removes his arms from their hold across his face.

And there’s Ryan, right in front of him, smiling encouragingly, still tracing those fucking patterns and swirls over his arms ~~and~~ ~~his~~ ~~heart~~.

He feels good, or as good as he can right now.

“That’s alright then, isn’t it? At least Ryan’s there.” He knows what that means, and hates his mother for being right, once again. Ryan subtly preens though, and Shane has to stifle a snort.

“Yeah, that’s true.”

He never speaks much after a meltdown, because although the main episode has finished, there’s still the credit sequence.

Casting Director: Shane Madej

Gaffer: Shane Madej

Runner: Shane Fucking Madej

Absolute Saviour (Special Guest): Ryan Bergara

It’d be nice if this day just ended already, he’s ready to go to sleep.

“Alright then, well I’m going to bed now. Ring if you two need anything.”

“Bye!” The two chorus before Ryan gently hangs up the call.

There’s a brief silence, the two looking at each other, trying to gage the other’s reaction, before Shane bursts out laughing. Ryan’s eyebrow quirks up at the behaviour, and he grins quietly until Shane’s finally quietened down.

“I should probably ask how you got in, but hi.”

“I was knocking for ages, but I could hear noises and I remembered you said the lady downstairs had a key,” Ryan replies, “or the ‘bitch who plays Prince’s _Purple_ _Rain_ album until 3am’.”

“That’s fair.” Shane yawns, openly and loudly, arms stretching out above his head, almost hitting Ryan who’s still crouching in front of him, “oh, sorry. Anyway man, you’re welcome to stay, but after a meltdown I usually fall asleep pretty quick. They’re tiring.”

He’s doing really well in his conversation with Ryan, which is a surprise. After all, that’s what this entire episode was about.

And doesn’t that make him feel even more fucking _stupid_ , _Shane_ _you_ _fucking-_

“Yeah, I’ll stay if you don’t mind. I don’t mean to baby you or anything, but I’ve never seen you have anything like that before, and I want to be here just in case it happens again, for my own peace of mind.”

If it were possible for Shane’s heart to melt anymore, it’d probably be a liquid slush. Fuck, Ryan makes him so happy.

“Yeah, go for it. I usually watch some TV before I go to sleep, just to make sure my mind isn’t still occupied, (lie, you just want to spend more time with Ryan, Shane’s brain interjects) you’re more than welcome to join me.”

“Sounds good to me.” Ryan glances over at the television, which Shane had paused when he first stood up. “IT Crowd again, really Shane?”

“Hey! Don’t knock it! You still haven’t seen it. We can restart from series 1 and see how far through we get? Oh, and then you’ve got to see The Mighty Boosh.”

“So I’ve got to see every British comedy under the sun. Fucking... teaaboo.”

“Teaaboo?”

“Yeah, like a weeb but for British shit. You’re obsessed.”

“It’s good humour!” Shane interjects, picking up the remote to return to episode 1, and then they settle into it.

This really hasn’t helped Shane’s situation in the slightest.

Every awareness he had of Ryan feels hyperextended, ever-present. Each time Ryan laughs, each time he raises an eyebrow or squirms at the awkwardness of the scenario on screen.

Time seems to slip past him, and they make it through onto series 2, and Shane keeps watching Ryan, who’s fully engaged now. Shane smirks to himself, he fucking _knew_ Ryan would love it, and for once in his life, he’s completely at ease.

He doesn’t need to pretend any more, doesn’t need to keep a guard up, and lets himself fall asleep to the sounds of Ryan’s wheezing, audience laughter and electric sex pants.


	2. Chapter 2

When Shane wakes up, there’s a prominent crick in his neck, the pain and irritation of it bringing him out of his sluggishness quicker than usual.

 

Slowly, he moves his head from side to side, opening his eyes as he does so.

 

Shane doesn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.

 

There’s no sign of Ryan anything where. He doesn’t wake up with his face buried in his hair, arms wrapped tightly around him, legs interlocked, only semi-conscious to the cacophony of the outside world.

 

That’d be a bit _too_ nice, and a bit too awkward to talk through this morning, so in some part Shane’s glad they haven’t played to every fanfiction’s generic fucking flowchart.

 

Sometimes clichés are enjoyable though, so he’s a little bit let down.

 

That is, until Ryan strolls into the room, clutching a bowl of cereal to his chest, surprisingly close to his chin. He’s upside down, as Shane’s head flips over the edge of the sofa to watch him.

 

Shane can’t help but raise an eyebrow though.

 

“What? I’m walking and eating at the same time, I don’t want to spill milk everywhere.” Ryan pouts, before reaching out to slap at Shane’s legs, encouraging him to move over.

 

_Fuck it_ , Shane thinks, and lifts his legs long enough for Ryan to sit down and slings them back across the other man’s lap.

 

Ryan rolls his eyes, but grins and Shane ( _like a fucking loser_ ) clearly relaxes, whilst Ryan balances his bowl on Shane’s legs.

 

“Who said I was your table?” He mumbles, wincing at the flirtatious lilt in his tone. Who the _fuck_ says something like that as an attempt to flirt? Holy fuck is he _weak_ for Ryan.

 

“You, when you put your legs on me, dumbass.” Ryan retorts, smiling gently before continuing to eat, and a couple of minutes pass by in silence.

 

That silence makes Shane’s heart fucking _swell_ tenfold.

 

This. This is what he’s always fucking wanted. Someone who’ll accept him for what he is, who he can sit in silence with, just listening to each other breathe, just appreciating the other person’s existence.

 

He wants someone who can deal with him in a meltdown, listen to him talk for a solid hour when he needs to ‘splurge’ because he’s been binge consuming information, shake their head and smile at him when he’s developed a new Special Interest, and someone he can love, wholly and truly.

 

So he can live it without forcing himself to, live it without having to _understand_ it, learn it by rote.

 

Ryan gives him all of that, even just on a platonic level. He listens to Shane rant when he’s researching, grins at him when Shane talks about whatever the fuck has caught his attention for the last half an hour, and he hopes he does the same for Ryan.

 

He loves the way Ryan’s eyes light up when he’s really animated about something. There’s no stopping him, it’s like grabbing on to the back of a bus and holding on for dear life, and Shane loves _every fucking second_ of it. There’s nothing he’s more attracted to than Ryan during his information splurges, he has to prompt himself to actually listen to what Ryan’s saying sometimes, because he looks so fucking beautiful.

 

Not that he doesn’t all the time. He looks fucking stunning right now, with his messy bedhead (or _sofahead_ , Shane hears himself say and smirks to himself - _that was fucking terrible_ ) and his creased up shirt, eyes still slightly bleary as he spoons mouthfuls of cereal into his mouth. He’s the picture of domesticity, and Shane’s heart aches.

 

He can’t have him in the way he wants, but he’s so _fucking glad_ he has him somehow.

 

“So, how’d you like the IT Crowd?”

 

“...”

 

“It’s good, right?”

 

“I finished it after you fell asleep.”

 

“See! I knew you’d love it. We’ve got to watch The Mighty Boosh next, and then there’s Peep Show, and then there’s Upstart Crow, and then there’s-“

 

Ryan laughs, “I know man, we’ve got time for you to nut over different British comedians, but can we talk about what happened last night, if that’s okay?”

 

Shane’s heart stops in his throat, and he feels like he might spit it out. It must be clear as day on his face, because Ryan starts to backpedal, eyes searching frantically about him.

 

“That is-, uh, if you’re, um, ready to talk about it, I guess? I just want to know what I need to do in the future,” Ryan lifts his hand to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck, before settling it, cupped against one of Shane’s knees, “you know I’m here for you, right? I don’t want you to have to go through that alone ever again.”

 

That’s... weird. Shane’s heart feels simultaneously heavier and lighter. He’s so fucking _grateful_ to Ryan, so fucking _gone_ on him, that his head and his heart feel like they’re spinning, lightheaded and somehow low in his throat. He doesn’t deserve someone like Ryan, who shouldn’t have to deal with him being an idiot and freaking out over the _tiniest little shitty thing-_

 

“Shane. Stop. I want to be here, and I want to help you. You don’t really have much of a choice here,” Ryan smiles downwards, bittersweet whilst tapping his fingers against Shane’s leg, which feels kind of nice. “I’m staying, for you, and there’s not much you can do about it.”

 

Another couple of minutes pass, more awkwardly than the previous. Shane’s entirely relaxed under Ryan’s fingers, and finally, finally he feels like he might be able to open his mouth.

 

“So, I got my diagnosis when I was about 4 or 5, because mom realised I wasn’t speaking. I could speak, but I didn’t. I had weird eating habits, and I couldn’t suck when I was a baby,” Ryan snorts, and Shane grins, “fuck off, that’s common in autistic babies. Anyway, back then, autism wasn’t as openly talked about, it was still kind of a sensitive subject, and a lot of the general public didn’t even know what the fuck it was. We always tried to keep it quiet, so that it was easier for us, and for other people to manage.”

 

Ryan frowns, looking up to make eye contact with Shane. “You shouldn’t have had to have done that.”

 

Shane shrugs, “no, I _shouldn’t‘ve_ , but it was easier, and still is. You know I don’t like to stand out that much, and trying to be as ‘ _normal_ ’ as possible makes it easier to do that. Sometimes I can’t do that though. I struggle with shit. Like, there’s certain noises and sounds that might make me anxious, and certain foods that I physically can’t eat, because I’m sick if I do eat them. There’s other shit too.”

 

Ryan hums, nodding gently before he asks, “is there anything I can do to help you, if you’re going to have a meltdown?”

 

“Usually, just get me out of the room with people in, if there’s a lot of people about, and just do what you did last night. That... that really helped.” Shane grins, staring at the ceiling, and he knows he must look goofy as _fuck_ , but he doesn’t give a shit. Ryan’s here, and he managed to bring him back to earth from a meltdown. Managed to free him from his own stupid brain.

 

“Do you, um, are you okay to talk about what prompted last night’s... episode?” Ryan’s inflection on the last word suggests to Shane that he isn’t sure whether it’s the right word to use, and he’s so hung up on that, that he doesn’t realise he’s just nodding, and agreed to answer the question.

 

Fuck.

 

 

_Come on, Shane_ , he thinks, _you can do this. You got to have your self-entitled little shitshow last night, get a fucking grip-_

 

“You.”

 

“Oka- wait, me? Shit, I’m sorry man, do you want me to leave? Am I doing something to make you feel uncomfortable? Oh shit, maybe I need to tone it down a little, I am being pretty obvious.”

 

“Obvious?” Shane’s genuinely puzzled. Obvious with what? “It’s not your fault, don’t worry, it’s me overthinking things, I think.”

 

Ryan’s breathing is a little quick and heavy, and Shane can feel his legs moving slightly with the gentle push of his stomach with every breath.

 

Shane clears his throat, and decides to just tell Ryan. Consequences be damned at this point, making Ryan believe that his _stupid episode_ isn’t his fault is the main focus here.

 

“I realised how fucking gone I am on you. I was watching Moss and Roy, and I saw them as a reflection of us, and I worked out that I’m at least a tiny bit in love with you, and I’d willingly spend the rest of my life with you, in whatever way you’d have me in it.” Shane stops himself, realising he’s bordering on splurging, and he hesitates yet again. This is a hell of a fucking lot to take in when he’s not been awake all that long.

 

Surprisingly enough, he feels _alright_. It’s a good feeling, being so openly blunt and honest about his emotions, which he actually understands, and isn’t forced to suppress by society. They’re out in the open, intermingling with the sounds of Ryan’s laughs.

 

Wait...

 

_Laughs?_

 

“Fuck, this is what I meant by obvious.” Ryan manages to get out in between laughs, “I’ve been trying it on with you for the last few months. I thought I was being really, really fucking obvious, and you weren’t interested. I was close to giving up, actually.”

 

That’s when Shane starts giggling too.

 

In hindsight, it’s so clear, but Shane wasn’t looking for it, so he didn’t see it. It _didn’t even cross his mind_ that Ryan would be into him, so he wasn’t going to notice anything as being outside the realm of friendship.

 

It’s so stupid, but it doesn’t even matter, because he and Ryan are laughing so fucking hard about how easily this could have been avoided, and Shane feels fucking elated. His heart is running some kind of cardio track and his mind is almost entirely blank except for Ryan.

 

He’s all that seems to matter.

 

Shane pulls his legs away from Ryan’s lap, and manoeuvres so that they’re sat next to each other, Ryan’s head tilted up to look at him, and he’s so fucking beautiful and cute and overwhelmingly everything Shane has ever _wanted_ that Shane just pulls him into a massive hug, burying his face in Ryan’s hair, just like how he wanted to wake up.

 

Shane’s a sucker for a good cliché or trope, sometimes. They make things a little more magical.

 

He feels Ryan squirm underneath him, reaching to put his bowl on the coffee table, before wrapping his arms around Shane in return, where they simply hold each other and know.

 

Shane’s got no other word for it.

 

They both just _know_.

 

“So, what do you want to do about this?” Ryan mumbles into the collar of his shirt, hot breath making Shane melt and mould himself against Ryan even more.

 

“I... I don’t really know. I think you know where I stand, from what I said earlier, so it’s really up to you. I’ll be honest and say that I think I’m a little bit in love with you,” Shane feels Ryan’s smile spread against his collarbone and fuck, he’s never been this happy, despite how _cringeworthy_ the situation might be, “just thought I’d tell you that again.”

 

“The feeling’s mutual.” Ryan presses a gentle kiss against his neck, and Shane shivers subconsciously, and the two share a gentle huff of laughter.

 

Shane’s unsure of what to do next, but the direct approach seemed to work last time.

 

“Want to cuddle and watch another series?”

 

“Fuck yeah.”

 

So that’s what they do, curled up with snacks on Shane’s sofa, yet again, the mood a lot happier this time. Shane feels like he’s entirely made of fluff, he’s that fucking soft.

 

Gently shared kisses, strokes of hands down each other’s sides and general company, as well as introducing Ryan to some good quality television. It’s wonderful.

 

So while it’s a generic beginning for them, something that falls under a trope, Shane gets his happy ending, he gets that someone who understands, and who he understands in return. He is honestly happy. He gets all of that, and he gets the best opening credits alongside.

 

_‘Come with us now on a journey through time and space...’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this this evening to stop myself thinking about getting my a levels back tomorrow bc I’m bricking it rn, I hope you enjoyed this tho!! I’d love to write more in this fandom in the future and you’ve been so supportive, thank you to all who’ve left kudos and commented!! x


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